Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Royal’s hands fisted at his sides. He sat on the leather seat and stared straight ahead at the woman he did consider part of his family. Only he hadn’t gotten around to actually telling her that fact. Mostly because he didn’t know how, and he was very, very worried he’d screw things to hell and back when he tried.
Hey, Violet, so…Beau was right about me. I’m an idiot who completely loves you. Any chance you want to give me a shot at convincing you to stay with me? Always?
When she’d been standing on that stage, when he’d realized she was saying goodbye to the show, he’d understood that there would be another town for her. Another production. She’d only been in Savannah for a temporary period. She’d hit the road again. It was only a matter of time.
And what was he supposed to do then?
The screen between the front and rear of the limo lowered. “Those jokers just won’t leave you alone, will they?” Kai sounded disgusted. “Knew you’d been getting phone calls and texts since your story went national. Some people have no damn shame.”
“I’m not buying the lies about my long-lost family.” He wasn’t some green idiot. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Good.” Kai had driven them away from the theater. “Don’t know what’s worse. The reporters or the people suddenly pretending to be family. I got your back, know it. I’ll make sure the creep in the gray suit doesn’t get close again.”
“Thanks, man.”
“Know it,” Kai repeated. The screen rose back into place.
Royal looked over at Violet. So beautiful. Staring at her took his breath away. She wore red again. An oversized, red blouse that seemed to be made of silk. It fell lightly over her shoulders. It reminded him of the dress she’d worn the first time they’d danced.
“Where are we headed?” Violet asked.
“Punishment.” He cleared his throat. “Got a few things I need to take care of there.” Some files that he had to make sure remained hidden. The cops hadn’t come to search his home or businesses yet, but it paid to be careful. “Don’t you want to ask me some questions?”
“Do you have something you want to tell me?” Her hands were on her lap. She wore faded blue jeans. Black flats on her feet.
He swallowed. “Kai made sure the limo was clear. No listening devices.”
“Uh, is that something we have to worry about? Listening devices being stashed in one of your rides?”
Unfortunately, yes. “Some of the Feds want to lock me up for murder.”
She just waited.
“Will Kelly.” Saying the name had his mouth tightening with distaste. “He was a bastard who got off on hurting young girls. Hurting them. Killing them.”
She nodded. “He’s someone you hunted and left for the cops to find?”
Okay. This part was going to be hard. And he almost didn’t want to look into her eyes as he revealed the truth. Almost? Hell. He might have traded part of his soul not to tell her this. But if he was going to ask her to stay with him, then she had to know everything. “He’s a man I killed.”
She didn’t blanch. Didn’t draw back in horror. She just watched him and waited.
“Sweetheart.” He found himself leaning toward her. “Shouldn’t you be getting scared right now?”
Her hand rose to touch his cheek. He’d shaved cleanly that morning, and her palm pressed to his skin. “Sweetheart,” Violet said softly, huskily, “why do you look at me like you’re the one who is scared?”
Because I don’t want you to hate me. I don’t want you to leave me. And I’m scared you will go running. Sooner or later, didn’t everyone run? “They’re not my family,” he said. Hell. Talk about a conversational jump.
She went right on touching him. Staring at him with those gorgeous eyes that seemed to see right into his soul.
“Some reporter dug up my past. Found out that I was dumped in New Orleans. No family to ever claim me. And that same reporter knows I have money to burn these days.” His lips twisted. “So the orphan boy who is suddenly a hero…” Or a villain, depending on who told the story. “He’s got people coming out of the woodwork, claiming to be family.”
“Like the man behind the theater. The guy in the gray suit.”
“Yeah, like him,” Royal agreed. “Only that jackass and the people like him aren’t my real family. They’re just after some cash.” Opportunists who’d come rushing for a potential payday. “My family abandoned me long ago, and they never looked back.” A stark truth.
“Did you ever look for them?”
He sucked in a breath.
“You’re such a good hunter,” she added as her soft palm pressed against him. “Did you hunt for them? You must have.”
She did know him well. He’d looked. Not because he wanted them to take him back with open arms and tear-stained cheeks, but because he’d wanted to know who the hell they were. “There wasn’t anything to find. I was thrown away. Left like garbage. No one came for me while I was growing up. Just Beau. He was there.” The brother that fate had given to him. “I did look some, when I was older, but there was nothing to find. It was like I’d never existed before that day.” Tell her. Tell. Her. “I used to think I was thrown away because my family knew that I wasn’t good enough for them.”
“Royal…”
“I killed Will Kelly.” Flat. “The cops aren’t ever going to find enough evidence to convict me, but I did it. I pulled the trigger, and I ended his life.”
She…moved forward. Hugged him.
His hands hovered in the air above her. Afraid to touch her, in case he’d break her. “Violet?”
“Hug me back,” she ordered him.
He did. “I just told you I killed a man.” She shouldn’t ask him to hug her in response.
“You told me that, yes. And yet you didn’t kill the other two predators. You left them alive. That means something happened with Will that was different,” she said into his shirtfront. “Did he attack you? Was he about to kill another girl? Who did you save?”
“Beau.” Raspy. Rusty. “Will was going to shoot at Beau. Beau came to try and stop me from doing something stupid.” A broken laugh escaped him. “Story of our lives. And there was a young girl there. Beau was getting her out, Will got a gun, and he was going to shoot my brother.” My family. “I couldn’t let it happen.”
“So you fired your gun.”
“Yes.”
“Did you leave any evidence behind?”
Another laugh. “Baby, I told you, they won’t ever be able pin that on me. They have suspicions, but nothing will stick.” The gun he’d used was long gone. No one would ever recover it. He knew how to cover his tracks.
She eased back. Peered up at him. “You’re that good?”
No, I’m that bad. “You will run from me.”
“Why are you so certain of that?”
“Because you deserve better than me.”
“Stop it.” Anger roughened her voice.
Surprise had him blinking.
“Don’t you dare talk that way about the man I love, do you understand me?”
He did not speak. Mostly because he couldn’t.
“This is some absolute bullshit,” she fired back. “You are great. You’ve saved me. Over and over, you’ve been there for me. Listen up, Royal. I want to be with you. Now. Always. I want you to take me to New Orleans, and I want you to show me why the city is so beautiful to you. I want you to make me jambalaya, and I want to dance with you while jazz music plays in the air around us. I want to be with you.” Her gaze searched his. “It’s you. Don’t you get that? For me, it’s just you. ”
The loud drumming of his heartbeat filled Royal’s ears. “Did you just say that you love me?”
“Yes, that is exactly what I said. And don’t tell me it’s too soon. Don’t tell me it’s some crazy hero-worship crap. I know what I feel. I know that when I’m scared, I want you with me. I know that when I’m happy, you’re beside me. I know that when I think of the future, I think of one with you. Me. Us.” Her hand lowered from his cheek. “And I know that in that future, I see a family. Our family. Where everyone belongs. Where everyone is wanted. And loved so much.”
He had to swallow. Twice. “I didn’t use protection the other day.” In this limo. Nearly in this exact same spot.
“I didn’t want you to use protection. I happen to think a mini-Royal would be pretty wonderful.”
“A mini-Violet would be even better.”
She blinked quickly. “Royal…”
“I’m scared.” Stark. Rough.
Another blink. “Why?”
“Because I shouldn’t want you so much. Because you are too good for me, and I know it. But I don’t want to let you go. I want to put the entire world at your feet. Anything you want, you whisper it to me, and it’s yours. I would fight, lie, and kill for you in an instant.” Now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop. “I’m not even sure this is love. It’s darker than I thought love would be. Consuming.” On the verge of obsession. “I just know that when I think of my life, I think of you. You are life for me, Violet. I don’t want to let you go.”
Her mouth came close to his. “Then don’t. Don’t ever let go.”
His lips pressed to hers.
But… Sweetheart, there is more I have to tell you.
“Royal?”
“Trouble’s coming.” He could all but feel it. His instincts screamed at him. “And we need to be ready.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the new switchblade he’d bought for her. He tucked it into her palm.
“You always give me the best presents.”
“This is bullshit,” Micah growled. He was out of the hospital. Still freaking in pain and with stitches in his side, and he was at the police station. In an interrogation room with his stuffy lawyer sitting at his side. “I’ve told you a million times, I did not kill Simone.”
“But you were fucking her,” FBI Agent Teresa Duncan pointed out.
“Yes,” he hissed. “But fucking isn’t a crime.”
Teresa and the detective shared a long look. Then Teresa glanced back at Micah. He did not like the smirk on her face.
“We recovered a butcher knife at the scene. It was covered in Simone’s blood. Violet had mentioned her attacker had a knife, but in the struggle with him, she thought the knife fell. It wasn’t recovered inside the old gas station, but our crime techs did find the weapon about fifty yards away.”
“Okay, great. Then you can run it for prints.” He straightened. The stitches pulled. “And when you get the real killer, I expect you to apologize to me. A nice, public apology because you have trashed my reputation.” Fury boiled within him. “They canceled my show. Can you believe that? I had dancers and crew members counting on me. We’d had freaking sold out shows booked.”
“A woman died,” Detective Curran Barlow reminded him.
Micah cut a glance at his lawyer. The old guy glared at him. “Yeah, yeah, and I’m grieving for Simone,” Micah rushed to say. “But I didn’t kill her.”
“Then why were your prints on the knife?” Teresa asked in fake confusion. She blinked her beady eyes at him. “To be specific, a thumb print. Right on the inside of the handle.”
As if on cue, the door opened. A uniformed cop walked inside. He held a big, plastic bag. And inside that bag? One big-ass butcher knife.
Oh, shit.
It looked just like the knife that he had in his kitchen. In his knife block.
“We searched your house,” Curran told him even as the uniform put the plastic bag down right in the middle of the table and then walked out. “You have a nice knife block in your kitchen. Very fancy. Very high-end.”
Sweat trickled down Micah’s back.
“Weird thing, though,” Curran continued as he scratched his chin. “One knife was missing from that block. Want to guess which one?”
He stared through the plastic. He could have sworn that he saw dried blood on the blade. Simone’s blood?
“Don’t say a word,” his lawyer instructed. He clamped a hand on Micah’s shoulder.
Micah shoved that hand away. Don’t say a word? Was the guy crazy? “I’m being framed!”
“Oh, yeah? Who’s framing you?” Curran wanted to know.
“The real killer!” Clearly. “Someone stole my knife.”
“So it is your knife?” Teresa pushed.
“I—”
“My client has nothing to say,” the lawyer interrupted fiercely. “Not like my client can look at some random knife and know who it belongs to!”
“Not random.” Teresa’s response was cool. “That knife is the murder weapon.”
“Not a word,” his lawyer bit out. “You don’t have anything to say to them, Micah.”
Wrong. He had plenty to say. He wasn’t going to be locked away. He was not. “Someone stole the knife! It probably has my print on it because it was mine, but the real killer must have worn gloves, so he didn’t leave his prints on the damn thing.” His breath heaved out. “I was stabbed. He stabbed me.”
The lawyer cleared his throat. Loudly. “Have you received the results from the examination of the switchblade?”
“The blade that Violet used on her attacker?” Teresa flickered a glance the lawyer’s way. “We’re still searching for that weapon.”
“You haven’t found it?” Micah exploded. “Hello! Isn’t that a giant red flag? The killer obviously took it from the scene. He is setting me up!”
“Did this mysterious killer also date Fiona Law?” Teresa wanted to know.
Shit. “That was a brief hookup,” he gritted. “A friend introduced us.”
“Uh, huh.” Curran crossed his arms over his chest. “And does this friend have a name?”
“ I am not a killer!”
Curran opened his mouth to reply.
And the door to the interrogation room opened again. It was the same young cop who’d come in a few moments before. The kid’s face appeared tense. “The doctor…she found more.”
More? And what doctor?
Teresa rose. She hurried toward the cop. Whispered with him.
More sweat trickled down Micah’s back.
“Don’t say another word,” the lawyer groused.
Teresa turned back toward them. “I didn’t realize that your great-uncle was the owner of the Freemont Winery.”
“Uh, yeah.”
“You didn’t mention that fact before,” Teresa said. “I actually discovered it last night after doing a ton of research on several shell companies.”
“My, um, great-uncle used to own a lot of property.” He raked a hand through his hair. “A lot has been sold off.” Mentioning that he went out there every now and then to tend to some grapevines didn’t seem like a good idea. Was it a fucking crime that he’d always enjoyed making some wine? Probably, in the eyes of the cops. “His ex-wife manages things. She sells stuff to help provide for his medical care. Guy lost his mind. Doesn’t know what’s happening around him.”
Teresa’s heels tapped across the floor. “Violet Murphy was abducted and taken to that winery, and you saw no need to mention your great-uncle owned the place?”
His lips clamped together.
“Thought it might make you look guilty, huh?” Curran asked.
Yeah, actually, he had thought that.
“Not. A. Word.” From the lawyer.
Was that all the over-priced prick could say?
“We have an expert who has been searching the winery.” Teresa peered down at Micah. “The cop just came in to inform me that our expert has made a startling discovery. At least two bodies are buried at the winery.”
Oh, fuck. He shook his head.
Teresa had returned to her side of the table. But she didn’t sit. She stared straight at him. “Guess that spot was special for you, huh? Those your first kills?”
“I haven’t killed anyone!”
“First kills are usually sloppy,” she told him. “So I’m looking forward to finding the evidence you left behind.” She slapped her hands on the table and leaned toward him. “And then I will nail your ass to the wall.”
He leapt to his feet. “It wasn’t me! It’s a setup! Can’t you see that?” He lunged for her.
And the uniformed cop who was still in the room grabbed him and slammed Micah face-first into the table. He thrashed against the cop’s hold. “Look, dammit! Fine, fine—I made the light fall on stage! I did that shit. I just—I wanted the publicity! If Violet got a few scratches, I knew it would be one hell of a story. But I’m not a killer ! I’m not!”
His lawyer was yelling, but Micah didn’t care. He fought the young cop. Twisted so he could at least see—Curran. The detective was frowning at him. “It’s a setup!” Spittle flew from Micah’s mouth. “Someone lured me out to that godforsaken gas station! When Simone called me, she told me that she knew what I’d done. That I had to come or she’d go to the cops.” A snarl broke from him. “Don’t you see? Someone wanted me to be at that place! Someone wants me to pay for all these crimes. But I didn’t do it! I swear, I didn’t kill anyone!”
The last time she’d been in Punishment, it had been filled with dancers. Music. Laughter. The lights had rolled over the crowd. Concealing. Revealing.
She’d danced on the floor with Royal. They’d started their pretend relationship on the dance floor so that others would see them and believe they’d fallen hard for each other.
Simone was here. She was worried and didn’t want to leave me on my own.
“I’ll stay out front,” Kai announced. “If you need me, just shout.”
His voice pulled Violet out of the memory. Her head turned in time to catch Kai giving a little salute as he stepped back outside.
The club wouldn’t open for hours. It was just her and Royal inside. And he was heading for the spiral staircase. Or, he had been. He’d stopped and extended his hand toward her.
Royal said he loved me.
Then they’d arrived at Punishment, and she hadn’t been given the chance to say anything else to him. They’d kissed in the limo. She could still taste him. Could feel the heat of his mouth seeming to linger against her own.
She hurried toward him and took his offered hand. The stairs squeaked a little beneath their steps, and then, a few moments later, they were on the second floor. He unlocked his door. Ushered her inside and turned on the lights.
Her gaze darted to his desk.
He went down on me right here.
Why did that seem so long ago?
“What is causing that blush, sweetheart?” Royal murmured. “Reliving the past? Or thinking about the future?”
A little bit of both.
He hurried around the desk. Then to the wall. An abstract piece of artwork hung on that wall. Reds and blacks on the white canvas. He lifted it up to reveal a wall safe. She watched in silence as he turned the dial and then entered a code. He even scanned his retina.
High-tech.
The safe opened. “Got most things out already. Just needed to get one more item.” His hand swept inside. Royal pocketed something so small she could barely even see it. “A drive with some important files,” he told her as he turned back her way. “I like to have a backup.” He shut the safe. Put the canvas back into place.
Then he turned toward her.
And when he turned toward her, horror flashed on his handsome face. Horror, wiped away immediately by blinding rage.
She tensed. “Royal?”
That was when she felt the flutter on her shoulder. A light, soft touch.
And then the blade of a knife pressed to her throat.